78 Anne of Green Gables
Anne sighed, retreated to the east gable, and sat down in
a chair by the window.
‘There—I know this prayer. I learned that last sentence
coming upstairs. Now I’m going to imagine things into this
room so that they’ll always stay imagined. The floor is cov-
ered with a white velvet carpet with pink roses all over it
and there are pink silk curtains at the windows. The walls
are hung with gold and silver brocade tapestry. The furni-
ture is mahogany. I never saw any mahogany, but it does
sound SO luxurious. This is a couch all heaped with gor-
geous silken cushions, pink and blue and crimson and gold,
and I am reclining gracefully on it. I can see my reflection in
that splendid big mirror hanging on the wall. I am tall and
regal, clad in a gown of trailing white lace, with a pearl cross
on my breast and pearls in my hair. My hair is of midnight
darkness and my skin is a clear ivory pallor. My name is the
Lady Cordelia Fitzgerald. No, it isn’t—I can’t make THAT
seem real.’
She danced up to the little looking-glass and peered into
it. Her pointed freckled face and solemn gray eyes peered
back at her.
‘You’re only Anne of Green Gables,’ she said earnestly,
‘and I see you, just as you are looking now, whenever I try
to imagine I’m the Lady Cordelia. But it’s a million times
nicer to be Anne of Green Gables than Anne of nowhere in
particular, isn’t it?’
She bent forward, kissed her reflection affectionately,
and betook herself to the open window
‘Dear Snow Queen, good afternoon. And good afternoon